Dream Home
by BellaC874
Summary: Bella buys a new house in Port Angeles that many people say is haunted. Is what they say true or a product of overactive imagination?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Happy Halloween! **

**Thanks to Ella and kitchmill for their help pre-reading and beta'ing. :) **

**I did add/change this after it was returned to me, so any mistakes you see are my own.**

**SM owns everything Twilight.**

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><p>1-<p>

Slamming the car door, I look up at my new home and I can't help but smile. This is the second thing I've bought—the first was a new car after my truck had died—with the money I've earned from my artwork, photography and the inheritance left to me by my Gran, who passed away when I was fourteen.

I didn't even realize my pictures were anything special, but one day, I was selling them in the park and someone offered me a hearty sum for it for my entire collection.

From there, it grew and grew. My first customer's friends admired my photos, then their friends, and their friends. It went on like this for months until I was offered a position at a prestigious gallery in Portland, Oregon that offered to showcase my pictures of landscapes and abstract images alike. I earned a hefty sum from the gallery displaying me, as well people buying the things they liked.

Now, my works are shown mainly in Portland, but a few other galleries have picked up a few pieces as well to sell to local businesses and private customers in Seattle and Olympia. With the money I have and the reasons that brought me here, I knew I had to put down my roots closer to home and find a place to settle … and I did just that. I found the perfect place for me.

My new home is a two story Tudor style home painted an eggshell white with dark brown beams all down the front, seeming like its hugging the frame of the structure. There are huge windows on the first and second levels, allowing an abundance of light to come through. The front yard looks a little dead, but with some new flowers and plants, it'll look brand new.

On the inside there is hardwood throughout, a huge living room with a stone fire place and a spacious eat-in kitchen with brand new stainless steel appliances. It has three bedrooms, one of which is a colossal master bedroom with attached master bathroom, complete with a vanity, jet tub and walk-in shower. It's a tad big for someone who is single with no pets or children, but when I first saw this place, I fell in love with it. There was something about it that drew me in and I had to have it. I wasted no time and immediately put a bid to buy. Two weeks later, I had a house in my name.

It wasn't as easy as it sounds though. The realtor I had gone to was evasive and never wanted to talk about this property. Every time I would bring it up, she would pretend like I was crazy and act as if the house didn't exist. It wasn't until I had been firm and told her I wanted information on the house that she finally gave in.

I was curious about why she was so reluctant to show me the house, but after overhearing a conversation with her boss about not wanting to let the house go, I surmised she must have been just as in love with it as I was.

I did feel slightly bad that I was taking the house from her, but I couldn't just let it go. It reminded me too much of my Gran's home here in Forks, where I spent my summers. I loved leaving my hometown of Seattle and heading toward the small town.

More than that, I loved spending time with Gran. Gran and I had a wonderful relationship. We would cook together, talk about everything and nothing and pour over embarrassing pictures of my father from his younger years. She was the only one I could talk to about anything without fear.

My parents don't know what I see in the town. They both hate it passionately. Personally, I think it's because the townspeople didn't go very easy on them when my Mom became pregnant with me at sixteen. But nevertheless, they despised it and as soon as they graduated high school, they left for Seattle and allowed me to visit for the summer.

After her passing, my parents didn't see the need for me to come here and refused to visit, even for a week, so my journeys to Forks stopped.

When my photographs took off, I moved to Portland. It was a little better than Seattle, but it held none of the fondness I had for Forks. A month ago, I decided I was done with fantasizing about seeing Forks again and made a plan to move here. I knew it wouldn't be the same without my Gran, but maybe I could feel closer and more at peace living in the town where she spent her life.

When I told my parents of my decision, they both tried to talk me out of it, thinking I would grow to hate the small town, but happily, I haven't grown tired of it yet. In fact, I love the slow pace and the fact that neighbors actually help you out when you need it.

_I thought something like that only existed in movies._

My fingers play with the keys in my hand, excitement creeping up within me as I bring myself back to the present. This place is _mine. _Finally_, _after nearly a month of signing papers and waiting for them to go through, not to mention waiting for my new furniture and appliances to be delivered, this house is mine!

I release an uncharacteristic squeal and run toward the front door, eager to walk in. Slipping the key into the lock, I hear the soft click and push open the door.

What greets me is the sight of the bright neon lime green walls of the living room.

Yeah, I know.

It's the one thing I hate about the house, but that can easily be fixed. All I need is a can of paint and I'm good to go.

Earlier in the week, I had my furniture, along with a few new pieces, delivered with the help of my cousin, Leah. She seemed leery of coming here at first, but I suppose she was nervous about directing the movers in an unfamiliar house while I was working.

I walk through the house, making sure everything is in the right place and I'm thrilled that it is. The living room is set up just like I wanted, with the couch and television in the center and a writing desk in front of the window. The kitchen is sparkling with the new appliances and new cherry wood cabinets and rose colored tile, nestled in the nook that will overlook a garden come spring.

Upstairs, all the furniture is set up to my specifications as well. Since I'm living alone, I decided to turn the two extra bedrooms into my work areas. One bedroom will still be functional as a guest room, but it will also house my art supplies. The other room will serve as my dark room for my photos.

Letting out another squeal, I jump onto my new plush bed, already loving how it surrounds my body like a cloud. I know that come night, I'll sleep like a baby in this thing.

I should get to unpacking my clothes and the things from my apartment, but I want to lie here with this big goofy smile on my face a little longer. I continue to lie there until I realize that things need to be done and they aren't getting accomplished by me lying around. Eventually I start to rise from the bed, but a sound from the hallway stops me.

Faint scratching and creaking wood makes me jump up, my heart diving into my stomach. The door is wide open, so I should be able to see if anyone else is in the house, but I see nothing.

"Hello?" I call out, my voice breaking. My hands shake and my legs wobble, but I need to remain cool and assess the situation.

In response to my voice, I hear a muted growl and what sounds like mumbling coming from the hall.

With my heart pounding in my throat, I slowly creep toward the door and peek my head out, looking down the hallway both ways. I see nothing and decide to look around, just in case someone is in my house. Taking the mace out of my pocket that my father gave me last Christmas, I check every room upstairs, finding the attic door is locked. I jiggle the handle and push and pull against it, trying to get it open but it doesn't budge. Taking a closer look, it appears the door latch has been painted or glued shut.

Knowing that no one could have gotten in there without breaking the seal, I go downstairs, resuming my search. Like my search above, I find nothing. Outside, a dog barks and relief washes over me, causing a small laugh to escape. As I do, the sound of scratching emits again and once more, my heart lodges in my throat. I try to think about what could cause such a noise and wonder if there really is someone in my house. Then, the realtor's voice comes into my head, listing the disadvantages to this house when she tried to stop me from buying it. One of the things she mentioned was this was an old house that was recently renovated, so I figure it could have been the house settling.

Or rats.

_Damn_. I need to call someone out here to check, just in case.

Putting my mace back in my pocket, I get started on unpacking and putting things in their proper place. I put the television on for some background noise, thankful the cable guy came out the same day my furniture was delivered. Halfway through putting things away, my cell phone rings, and looking at the caller ID, I see it's my father.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Bella. Get everything unpacked?"

"Not quite."

"Hmph." He grunts. "Good luck with that. You know," he starts, but he's interrupted by my Uncle Billy.

"I'm going to miss you, girl! Your parent's cooking sucks, so come back soon! You know you love your Uncle Billy the best!"

I laugh as my Dad tells him to shut up or he'll put him out on the porch in the cold and eat in front of him while he's starving.

"Dad, that's terrible." I laugh, knowing he's just joking.

"Yeah, but he deserves it. I was thinking ..."

The hair on the back of my neck stands up and my skin prickles as gooseflesh stretches across my skin. My hands twitch and my feet automatically turn toward the door, my senses telling me to leave this area. Ignoring what my body wants me to do, I quickly scan the room, looking for what could be causing this reaction, but nothing can be seen. My hands start to tremor violently and my heart beats so fast, I'm surprised my father can't hear it through the phone. A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead and I swallow thickly to dislodge the heaviness and tightness I feel there.

"So what do you think?" Dad's voice asks, taking me back into the conversation.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"You okay? You sound funny."

"Yeah." I force out a laugh. The strange feeling slowly leaves me and I'm left with the adrenaline caused by it. "I just had a funny feeling."

"It's just because you're in a new place. Plus, you're in the big house all alone. That's a first for you. You've always either lived with me or with people nearby. Now, you're living by yourself and giving yourself the heebie-jeebies. I was like that too when I first bought this place."

"Yeah, that's probably it. So what were you saying before?"

"Well, now that you have that new place, maybe your Mom and I can come and see you. Maybe spend a few days."

"Really?" I ask, shocked he would suggest such a thing.

"Yeah, well, this is your first house. We can put aside old issues for that place and come visit," he hedges, his voice doubtful.

"I hope so. Is Mom there?"

"Yep. She's sitting with your Uncle Billy and Aunt Sue. Hold on."

There's shuffling through the phone and a second later, my mother's voice filters through.

"Bella?"

"Hey, Mom."

"Hi, sweetie. How is your trip going?"

I sigh. Every time I talk to her, she asks me this, like she doesn't believe I really moved here.

"Mom, I moved here. It's not a trip. I bought a house."

She huffs. "I don't know why you would want to live there, anyway. It's a small town, full of gossipers and nosy people!"

"We've had this conversation before, Mom. You know my reasons."

"I know. But there are plenty of small towns near your father and me too!"

"Yes, but Gran lived _here_."

Mom's tone softens. "I know she did. The two of you had a special relationship." She's silent for a moment. "Okay. I'll stop. You obviously like it, so I'll back off."

"Thank you," I reply, grateful. "You and Dad should come visit sometime. It's a beautiful house. Did you get my pictures?"

"We might come up sometime soon," she says, repeating my Dad's earlier reluctant words. "And yes, we got the pictures. It is a nice house. It reminds me of your Gran's."

"That's why I got it!" I laugh.

Mom laughs as well. "So I see. Wasn't your cousin Leah there too?"

"Yep. She didn't seem like she wanted to be here, though."

"Well, Leah has a lot of things going on. She's in a bit of a predicament."

"Oh? Is everything okay?"

"She's fine. Apparently, she's been 'seeing' quite a few boys … oh hell, I'm just going to say it. She's been sleeping around and now she's pregnant and doesn't know who the father is. My niece is a slut."

I break out in astonished laughter, a little surprised my Mom would refer to her flesh and blood in such a way, but then again, she's never been one to mince words. In the background, I hear Aunt Sue smacking her, telling her to watch what she says about her daughter.

"What?" she continues, talking to both Aunt Sue and me. "She is."

"Says the woman who got pregnant at sixteen," I deadpan.

"I never said I wasn't a slut. I was just that way with your father. I only had one lover. My niece, on the other hand ..."

I groan. "Okay, let's have a new topic. I don't want to think about you and Dad doing that. And before you say anything, I know how I got here, but no one wants to think of their parents that way."

Mom laughs. "All right, no more talking about that. Are you unpacked?"

"Not quite. I've been too excited to get anything done."

"I may not understand your choice, but I will tell you to enjoy these happy feelings. They're wonderful. Now, I'm going to let you go so you can unpack. Call us later, okay?"

"Will do. Love you, Mom."

"Your father and I love you too. Talk to you soon."

With the final parting word, we hang up and I resume unpacking. Everything is in its place after two and a half hours. I don't have enough items to completely fill my home; in some areas, it looks sparse, but over time I'll fill the empty spaces and make this a complete, comfortable home.

Because I've yet to make a trip to the grocery store, I'll have to settle on takeout. I place an order at the Chinese restaurant and get out a plate, silverware and a glass. While I'm waiting for my food to arrive, I relax on the couch and find something to occupy my time. I settle on a movie I've seen many times before and get comfortable.

Five minutes later, a shadow passes from behind me in the television screen and I jolt up, looking around frantically. I see nothing but lime green walls and furniture. I listen carefully, trying to hear anything abnormal, but all that can be heard is the television and my rapid breathing.

Walking around the couch, I take slow steps and follow the path I saw the shadow take. There are no other doorways in the kitchen or dining room except the wood paneled pantry and the back door which is still deadbolted. That only leaves the pantry, which I open with a shaking hand and gasping, shallow breaths.

A sigh of relief leaves me as I see the empty space. I lean against the wall for a moment, placing a hand over my chest and waiting for my erratic heartbeat to slow. Once I feel calm again, I make my way back to the living room, chuckling to myself.

I sit back down on the couch, wondering if my eyes are playing tricks on me. I am extremely tired from the amount of unpacking I did, so it's very possible that I could have been dreaming.

Realizing that's what it was, I get comfortable again on the couch but just as I do, the doorbell rings, causing me to gasp.

"Food." I laugh out, rising once more and retrieving my purse.

The delivery man seems fearful as he hands me my bag of food and I wonder if he's all right. It's raining slightly and rain makes drivers crazy for some reason. Maybe he was almost in an accident. Before I ask if he's okay, he's running off, jumping in his car and speeding away. I look after him in confusion.

My stomach grumbles, demanding to be fed, so I shut and lock the door, taking the bag of delicious smelling food to the kitchen. I pause in the doorway when I see the plate and silverware I left out earlier is now gone from the island and in an open cabinet, resting in their proper place.

_Didn't I take those out? I could have sworn I did. Weren't they there when I came through here a little while ago?_

I try to think if I saw the items on the counter, but my mind comes up blank. Perhaps I didn't take them out or in my tired and scared state I put them back without thinking twice about it.

Deciding to let it go, I retrieve the needed items for my dinner and dish it out, inhaling the aroma of sweet and sour pork with fried rice as I go back into the living room to relax.

I scarf down my dinner in minutes, feeling extremely uncomfortable at the amount of food I ate in such short time. I should have known I couldn't eat that much, but my eyes were bigger than my stomach, I suppose.

Taking my dishes back into the kitchen, I see everything is in the same place I left it, confirming that I probably put the dishes away earlier and didn't think about it. I quickly wash and put everything away so I can get to sleep because exhaustion is creeping up on me.

Checking the locks and turning off the television, I make my way upstairs, hearing a strange scratching sound coming from the wall as I walk.

"Damn it. I hope it's not rats," I say to myself.

The scratching stops as soon as the words leave my mouth, but that doesn't put me at ease. They probably were frightened by the sound of my voice.

Near the fridge, I write down a reminder to call an exterminator to come out and look at the house tomorrow. Hopefully the sounds I'm hearing are due to an old house, but a feeling deep in my gut tells me it's something else.

8*8*8*8

"Mom, I'm trying to sleep," I grumble into my pillow as her fingers comb through my hair, trying to rouse me from sleep. She doesn't stop her gentle movements, keeping up the soft brushing of my hair with her fingertips. "Mom, leave me alone. I'm tired."

The movement continues and I start to turn over, getting ready to plead for a few more minutes of sleep when two things happen simultaneously; I feel a sharp jerk of someone pulling my hair and remember I'm not staying at my parent's house. In fact, I haven't stayed there in over six months. My eyes pop open and I shoot up in bed, my eyes looking around wildly. I _know _ I had felt something or someone touching my hair.

Frantically, I shove my hands in my hair and shake, trying to dislodge the bug or whatever else had been crawling on me. I wince when my fingers hit a particularly sore spot, but continue looking. When I come up empty, I search the bed and floor, coming up empty. I sit back against the headboard, confused and groggily staring at my open closet.

_Did I leave that open? _

The scurrying sound I heard last night echoes throughout the empty bedroom and I shiver in disgust, hopping up from my bed and running into the bathroom. I'm now sure I have the one thing I didn't want to have. Rats.

After quickly showering, I grab my cell phone and purse, locking up the house behind me and heading toward the diner. I take a seat and place my order, taking the time while it's cooking to call an exterminator.

I talk to three different people and they all rush out that they have a busy morning and hang up when I tell them the location of my house. I sit back stunned, as Dora, a waitress that's worked here forever, slides my food in front of me.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't find an exterminator. Everyone is all busy."

"Really?" she questions, looking just as stunned as me. "That's odd. Maybe it's the location of your house. Where are you living again?"

"The Tudor on Hunters Court."

Dora's face pales. "Oh. Yeah, I forgot," she says, laughing a little nervously. She composes herself and smiles. "It's the location. It's in a weird spot for zoning and competitive territory, you know. Try Port Angeles. It's an hour drive, but they're known to come out here."

Taking her advice, I call the first number I find and I'm relieved to hear that someone will be out later this morning.

"Thanks for the tip, Dora. Someone's coming out in a bit, so I need to get going," I say, paying my bill.

"No problem," she answers, putting my money in the register. "Be careful in that house, okay?"

I stop myself from going out further and stand in the doorway, confused by her choice of words. "What do you mean? Is there something I should be afraid of?" I ask, laughing slightly.

Dora gives me a tight smile. "No. Just … be careful."

"I will. See you later, Dora."

I wave goodbye and head toward my house to wait for the exterminator. In the living room, I notice the picture frames I placed along my bookshelves are on the floor or lying face down on the top, seemingly knocked over. I scan the area, looking for some kind of sign of what could have knocked them over, but I don't see any droppings from rats or animals and the window isn't open, so it wasn't the wind that knocked them down.

Straightening the photographs, I examine them, grateful and relieved that none of them appear damaged. Some of these can't be replaced, so I'm so thankful they're okay.

There's still a bit of time to kill before the exterminator is expected, so I grab a book and collapse on the couch. I should be upstairs putting together my photographs, but I like to take my time and lose myself in my art. With someone coming to the house, I'd lose my flow and get frustrated, so I'm not going to even bother starting.

_BANG! _

I jump, my book falling heavily on the floor. My heart races in my chest, matching my erratic breathing. My eyes are trained on the ceiling above me—my bedroom, where the sound came from. I don't know what I'm waiting for; perhaps it's x-ray vision so I can see through walls.

Slowly, I start up the steps and head into my bedroom. Like my photos downstairs, the contents of my beside table have been knocked—no, _thrown—_onto the floor. Nothing that falls onto the floor could make such a loud noise.

I look all around the room, seeing nothing else out of place or disturbed. Just trinkets and the two photos of my parents and Gran.

From my closet, I hear the familiar sound of scratching and inch my way toward the closed door, preparing myself for the creatures to run out and start biting at my ankle like a bad horror movie. Just as my hand touches the knob, a loud knock from the front door sounds and I jump, startled once more.

Running down the steps, I throw open the door and see the surprised face of a man with short dark hair and hazel eyes.

"You scared me!" he exclaims, his voice deep.

"Sorry," I say, out of breath. "Thank goodness you're here. I _just _heard the rats in my closet."

"Looks like I came just in time, then! Name's Emmett."

He holds his hand out and I shake it. "Bella." I let him in and watch as he wipes his feet before entering.

"Nice to meet you. I better get started, so I'm going to go and look around upstairs, see if I find anything."

I nod and he disappears up the steps. I hear him moving around and opening doors, talking to himself every now and then, but nothing else. Almost half an hour later he comes down, frowning slightly.

"Do you have a key to the attic?"

"No. It wasn't given to me when I bought the place, so I figured I didn't need it. Why, do you think there are rats up there?"

Emmett shakes his head. "Honestly, I don't think you even _have _rats. I haven't seen leftover food, bite marks or droppings anywhere. I'll check the rest of the house to be sure, but I'm thinking you don't have a rat problem."

I frown in confusion. How can I not have rats? I know I've heard them in the walls, scratching and moving around. There's no way I could mistake that.

"Well, I've checked," Emmett says, coming into the room forty minutes later. "No rats."

"How is that possible? I've heard them!"

Emmett shrugs. "I don't know what to say, but it's not rats or mice. It could be the house settling. This does appear to be an older renovated home. They creak and groan, you know."

"Yeah." I had thought about that, but I know that's not what I heard. "Thank you, Emmett."

He flashes me a big grin. "You're welcome. If you have any further problems, don't hesitate to call!"

I walk him out and wonder what the hell is going on in my house.

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><p><strong>AN: I hope you enjoyed it!**

**There are three more chapters left, and they'll be posted throughout the day. ;) **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reads and reviews and to Ella and kitchmill. They're the best! **

**I did add to this after it was returned to me, so please forgive any mistakes.**

**SM owns everything Twilight.**

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><p>2-<p>

"Mine," a voice growls next to my ear, waking me from a dead sleep.

I'm filled with an icy chill that has nothing to do with the temperature of the room. The air in my lungs halts and jams in my throat as I try to remain as still as I can. With great effort, I keep my eyes closed, not wanting to appear awake. My lungs start to burn due to lack of oxygen and I take in a huge lungful of air, my eyes popping open in the process.

My eyes dart from corner to corner of my bedroom, looking for the owner of the voice that whispered in my ear. I see nothing out of place; I hear nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, birds are chirping and a little sunlight is streaming through the clouds, shining beautifully through the trees.

_What happened? Was I dreaming?_

I must have been, because there's nothing here and no sounds to indicate that someone is in my house. To be safe, I do a quick check with my pepper spray in hand. Twenty minutes later, there's no open windows and no unlocked doors.

_I guess I was dreaming._

After my search, I go through my morning routine and slip my robe over my shoulders after my shower. As I head toward my closet, I notice the door is slight ajar. I stop in my tracks, knowing that it was closed the night before. I always make sure to close it because open closet doors at night freak me out.

Going over, I push it closed and I notice that it takes a sturdy push for it to latch. I guess I didn't push it hard enough yesterday.

Quickly, I ready for my day and make plans to go to the hardware store. Today will be the only day in three weeks where I'll have time to paint over those horrid lime walls in the living room and I don't want to waste another second.

As I get into my car and prepare to pull away, a white figure from the attic window catches my eye and I stop the car, straining my eyes to see past the glare in the window. Whatever was there isn't there anymore, but I keep my eyes glued as I step out of my car, keeping my eyes trained upward. Overhead a bird flies by, casting a reflection over the window, making me jump and chuckle at my silliness.

_Of course it was just a reflection of a bird, you idiot. You've seen that door. No one can get in or out of there without that seal breaking. _

Shaking my head, I pull out of the driveway and make the short drive to Cullen Hardware, parking in the front. The store inside is spacious, with rows upon rows of paint, bathroom and kitchen fixtures, tiles, counter tops and tools. It looks like this store carries everything and I imagine that they're very popular, since the only other home improvement is in Port Angeles, an hour away.

Walking down the paint aisle, I browse the selection of paint they carry, seeing three colors that I really like. I'm debating between sandstone, lavender and a charcoal gray when someone comes up behind me, startling me.

"How can I help you?" A chiming voice asks.

Turning with my hand over my heart, I see a small woman with a pixie haircut and huge, hazel eyes staring at me with a beaming smile. She's wearing black slacks and a turquoise t-shirt, looking both professional and laid back.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"No, it's fine," I reassure her. "I just didn't hear you come up."

"That's because she's so small and light. She hardly weighs a thing. Of course, you would doubt that when you see her eat like it's her last meal," a new, deep and charismatic voice quips.

My eyes drift toward the voice and it seems like time moves in slow motion as the man that has to be at least six foot walks up, lean with a hint of muscle. His white cotton shirt and paint splattered jeans only enhance this, making my mouth go dry as his muscles flex as he walks up. His copper hair is a chaotic mess and his vibrant lawn green eyes sparkle with humor as looks at the woman standing near me.

"Oh shut up, you. You're just jealous because I can eat whatever I want and not gain a pound unlike you, fatty." She retorts, punching his stomach.

"Yeah, but how long will that last? Pretty soon all that food that you stuff your face with is going to catch up with you and then you'll just expand. We'll have to roll you everywhere."

"Eh," she says, waving him off. "There will just be more for Jasper to love."

"Yuck." He screws up his face in disgust, which makes her laugh heartily.

"Please excuse my brother," she tells me. "He hasn't developed conversational skills yet. I'm Alice Hale and this nut job is my brother, Edward Cullen."

"Bella Swan."

I shake each of their hands, trying not to tremble when Edward's hand covers my own. I think I do a good job, despite fighting the urge to keep Edward's hand longer than what is sociably acceptable.

"How can I help you?" Alice repeats her earlier question, now that introductions are made.

"I'm looking to repaint my living room." My voice shakes a little, due to nerves. Edward hasn't taken his eyes off of me since I shook his hand. It's a little flattering, but mostly embarrassing. I hope I don't have anything on my face.

Taking a quick peak, I see he's staring intently at me, a small look of heat in his eyes and I look away as my cheeks flush. I've had men look at me this way before, but I never felt anything for them. There were a couple of men in Portland that I thought were cute, but I was never nervous around them and I never felt the world starting moving in slow motion when they walked.

This is something new.

Next to him, I can see Alice looking between us, a small mischievous smile on her lips. I don't know what that's about. Instead of trying to figure it out, I try to focus on the present purpose on why I'm here. I know nothing about him; he could be dating someone, engaged or married and one rule I have is to never mess with someone in a relationship. My eyes involuntarily drift down to his ring finger and I find it bare, but that hardly means anything. He could be the type of person who doesn't wear jewelry.

"What colors are you thinking about?" Thank goodness for Alice, who pulls me back to the present.

"These three here," I respond, pointing them out. "I don't know which one to choose though."

"Hmm. What type of home do you have?"

"A Tudor."

"I would go with lavender. It will keep that 'homey' feeling that you get from the outside. Plus, lavender is a very calming color."

"Great, I'll go with that one. What do I need to paint over another color? Will this do it?"

"What color is it?"

"Neon lime green."

"Oh, eww!" Alice shudders, her entire body shaking with disgust. "Why would someone paint their living room that color?"

I laugh at her reaction and watch Edward as he takes a can of paint off of the shelf. "This is the one you'll need. This is a primer, stain blocker and sealer. You should only need one coat, but to be safe, I would say use two."

"Great, thanks," I smile.

He nods in response, his lips forming a perfect crooked smile. "Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"I need some brushes and a tarp."

"I'll get it," Alice offers. "Why don't you go up front with Edward and get the bill ready?"

With those words, she walks away, picking up various items as she wanders through the store. Edward gives a small smile at his sister's actions and motions his head toward the register before picking up a second paint can.

"You probably won't need this, but we're having a sale on paint and you're getting a good deal. This can is 75% off."

"Great, thank you."

"No problem, Bella. So, are you new to the area? I don't recall seeing you here before."

"No, I'm not new. My grandmother lived here and I used to visit her during the summer, but it's been almost ten years since I've been back."

"Well, explains why I haven't seen you before. My family and I moved here nine years ago. That's kind of a disappointment. Only missed you by a year," he says, a crooked smile on his lips.

In response, I blush and tuck a lock of hair behind my ear, watching him through my lashes as he fiddles with the computer in front of him. After he types a few things, he turns to me just as Alice walks up with the rest of my stuff.

"Did you get her phone number?"

"Alice," he groans, his head falling back on his shoulders.

"What?"

He looks at his sister incredulously for a long moment, then turns back to me. "If I haven't developed conversational skills, my sister here doesn't have a clue what tact and subtlety means."

Alice rolls her eyes and gives me a friendly smile. "Sorry. I hope I haven't offended you."

"Not at all."

"Great! Edward get her details down so she can receive special offers and coupons later on and I'll ring up her purchases."

"Yes, drill sergeant."

"And while you're at it, you should ask her out. You know you want to."

Edward groans and his cheeks turn fire engine red as he glares at his sister. Alice, unperturbed by his ire, continues ringing up my things without looking at us once.

"I hate you," he hisses at her, before turning his attention back to me. "Sorry about her. She's a little pushy and such a nosy person. I told my parents to leave her at the hospital or sell her to gypsies, but they wanted to keep her for some reason."

I laugh and wave him off. "It's okay. I imagine all siblings are like that in some way."

"Unfortunately," he deadpans. "Now, let me get some information from you before my sister kills me."

I give him my name, birth date and cell phone number without problem, but when I recite my new address, both of them pause, staring at me with wide eyes.

"What?" I question, looking between them.

"You live in the house at the end of Hunters Court?"

"Yes," I answer slowly, wondering why they're reacting like this. "Why?"

They're both silent for a moment before they shake their heads, trying to school their shocked expressions. It reminds me of the delivery man from last night and it peaks my curiosity.

"No reason," Edward replies, clearing his throat. "That house has sat vacant for a long time, that's all. I guess it shocked us when we heard you moved into it."

"Really? It was in pretty good condition on the inside."

"That's strange," Alice remarks. "The total for your order is $70.26."

I hand Alice my credit card, watching their faces, hoping I'll get an answer for their strange behavior, but they remain silent. Despite their quiet mouths, their eyes speak volumes; I see nothing but worry and fear in their eyes and it unsettles me. When Alice hands me the receipt to sign, I scribble down my name and hand it back to her.

I start to question her about her reaction, but Alice's gasp stops me as she reads my name from the slip.

"Isabella Swan? You're Isabella Swan? Why didn't I put it together before? Oh, I love your photographs! My family has bought four pieces from you. Edward even bought a photograph from you and he doesn't generally like artsy stuff. He stares at your picture all the time. You know that sunflower field photo? He loves it!"

The tips of Edward's ears turn cherry red and his hand goes to the back of his neck, rubbing it roughly. "Alice," he spits out through clenched teeth.

I'm touched he and his family are such fans of mine. I have met other fans of my work at gallery openings and showcases, but never outside of those walls.

"Thank you, I'm glad you enjoy it so much."

I get a small, shy smile in response. It's a look that I can't help but return.

"I hope to see you again, Bella. I would like to get to know you more," Alice says, handing my bag filled with brushes and tarps.

"I'd like that, Alice."

"Awesome! I'll call you and we'll work something out!"

"Okay," I smile, happy that I've made a new friend.

My hand reaches to take one of the paint cans but I'm beaten to it by Edward, who takes both cans of paint with ease.

"I'll take these to your car."

For some strange reason, I blush at his offer and slowly walk out of the store with Edward trailing behind me. He places the cans of paint on the floorboard behind the driver's seat and takes the bag out of my hand, putting it back there as well.

He closes the door and stands in front of me, his hands buried in his pockets as rocks back onto his heels. "I hope this isn't too forward, but I was wondering if you like to get a coffee with me?"

Edward says this in such a rush that I have to think for a moment and break up the words in my head. I think about seeing yes immediately, but my earlier thoughts pop into my head.

"Oh … Um … you're not seeing someone are you? Married? Engaged?"

He looks shocked at my question, but answers anyway. "No, not at all. I wouldn't have asked if I was."

"Okay. Sure, that'd be great."

With a crooked smile, he helps me into the car and waves as I drive off. I return the gesture and make my way home, lugging in the paint cans with a grunt and dropping them onto the floor. After locking the door, I start to go upstairs and change into some ratty clothes so I won't mess up the ones I'm wearing. About halfway down the steps, I notice three of my glass figures are broken into little pieces.

I descend the stairs and walk over to the mess, looking from the pile of broken glass at my feet to the shelf they were previously on. My hand reaches out, shaking the object, wondering if it's come loose from the wall. It does feel slightly loose, but that shouldn't have been enough to make the figurines fall and smash to the floor.

Swallowing thickly, I squat down and look at the mess on my floor. My feelings are telling me that something isn't right here. But what? What could it be?

My mind comes up with nothing and quite frankly, I have no time to ponder this any further. I have to paint over the living room and hopefully get some work done. With a sigh, I retrieve the broom and dustpan, promptly sweeping up the glass and depositing it in the trash.

The day is getting away from me, so I rush upstairs and change, ready to rid my living room of the lime green color that hurts my eyes whenever I look at it.

I place the tarps down onto the floor and pour the paint into the tray, surprised that the color covers very well and no sign of the neon green is peeking through. I'll have to wait and see though. Sometimes the color will bleed through after the first layer is dry.

I'm on the last wall when I hear a loud thump come from above. It startles me so much that I drop the roller, splattering paint all over the tarp. My eyes are trained on the ceiling, as if I can see through the floor. Thinking that something must have fell, I go upstairs, which is my photography studio. My eyes scan the room, seeing nothing out of place.

_What was that? The floors creaking? A pipe banging against the wall? It'll take a while to get used to sounds in this place, _I think as I go back downstairs, resuming my painting. Luckily, the rest of my time is spent in silence, the only sound coming in is from the outside where cars pass by. Despite it being quiet, the uneasy feeling of being watched comes over me and lasts well into the night.

8*8*8*8

The next morning, my cell phone rings just as I wake up. The number on the screen is unfamiliar, but local, and I answer it anyway, hoping Edward is on the other end of the line.

My hope isn't in vain.

"Hi, Bella. I hope you don't mind me calling so early."

I bite my lip to contain my squeal of delight. "No. I just woke up actually, so good timing."

His chuckle emanates through the line. "Great. Do you want to get that coffee today or wait for another day?"

Before the sentence is out of his mouth, I'm answering. "Now is fine."

He chuckles again and I palm my face in embarrassment. "Great. I'll pick you up at your place. Is that all right?"

"Perfect. Give me fifteen minutes?"

"You got it. See you soon."

Once I hang up the phone, I jump up and run toward the bathroom, getting ready in a hurry. As soon as I swipe on some mascara, Edward knocks on the door, right on time.

"Hi," I breathe. Internally, I smack myself for sounding so childish and lovesick.

"Hey. You look beautiful."

I grin my thanks and gather my purse and keys so I don't make a fool of myself and start drooling like a fool. After locking up, Edward places a hand on the small of my back and leads me toward a sports car that doesn't fit in in Forks, but definitely suits him.

Edward helps me inside and shuts the door after me like a gentleman. Instead of walking around to driver's side like I expect him to do, he remains standing next to my door, his eyes trained on my attic windows. I duck my head down, wondering what he's looking at, but I see nothing.

"Edward?" I ask, opening my door so I can be heard. "What's wrong?"

He looks down at me, his eyes troubled. "Nothing." He walks around to the other side of the car, giving me a small smile and takes off toward the diner.

Again, he places his hand on the small of my back and escorts me inside, holding out my chair when we find a table. Dora comes by instantly, taking our orders after a quick look at the menu.

"Tell me about you, Bella. I know you're photographer and a painter, but what do you like to do in spare time? Where are you from?"

"I was born here, but raised in Seattle. At nineteen, I moved to Portland, Oregon where my painting and photos were offered a spot in a gallery. I liked it there well enough, but I've always thought of Forks as my home, so I moved back. For fun, I love to read and watch movies." That's me in a nutshell. Nothing exciting and nothing worth writing home about. "What about you?"

"My family and I moved here nine years ago after traveling through the area. We all fell in love with the landscape and decided to make a home here. I manage my father's hardware store and in my spare time, I play the piano and I also love movies, so we have that in common."

A goofy grin grows on my lips and I bite my bottom lip in order to stop myself from looking like a crazy person.

At that moment, Dora comes by, delivering our food. She must sense that this is more than a couple of friends having breakfast, because she doesn't stop for small talk and leaves with a wink.

Edward and I dig into the food, exchanging small smiles in between bites. After we're done, we continue our talk, chatting about our favorite food, color and movies.

The sun rises higher in the sky and I reluctantly admit that I need to go home. Days before I got settled here, I was offered a position in a local gallery and I have to submit new artwork. I'm ashamed to admit I haven't even started yet, but I know I'll get it done soon.

Edward drives me home and turns to face me with a gentle smile.

"Thanks for coming out with me. I had fun."

"Thanks for inviting me," I reply.

Edward's eyes keep darting between me and my house and I'm reminded of his reaction at the hardware store and earlier this morning when he stood there and stared, like he had seen something. Before I lose my nerve, I blurt out my questions.

"Edward, why did you look shocked when I told you where I lived and why did you look so strange this morning when you picked me up?"

I'm shocked he's able to understand me, but obviously he is. He sighs softly, running a hand through his hair.

"Honestly, I was surprised that it was sold," he tells me, speaking slowly, like he's reluctant to tell me what he knows. "After my family and I moved here, there was murder. In your house." I drew in a deep breath, but he continues like he never heard me. "There was a small family living there; husband, wife and their child. From what I heard, everyone thought they were perfect until one day the husband and wife were arguing and he killed her. Their child saw what happened and ran to get help, but he killed them too. When the police came to investigate they couldn't find the husband. Neighbors say that they're sure he went into the woods and killed himself because they heard a gunshot a little after everything went down. Those same people say he haunts that house. Your house."

Swallowing thickly, I turn and slowly face my house. It's unsettling to hear that someone has been killed in my house and even more unsettling to hear the murderer could be haunting it.

A part of me wants to brush this off, knowing that ghosts only exist in movies and books. But another part of me thinks about all of the strange occurrences that have happened since I've moved in. It's hard to ignore what I've heard and seen with my own eyes.

It's even harder to ignore what is staring me in the face.

My house is haunted.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Two more to go! I hope you enjoyed the chapter! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you to all who has read and reviewed! **

**Thanks to Ella and kitchmill for all of their hard work and help! **

**Any mistakes you see are my own. **

**SM owns everything Twilight.**

* * *

><p>3-<p>

After talking with Edward, he tries to assure me he doesn't believe my house is haunted, but I'm not so sure. How can I ignore what's happened? When he senses my doubt, I blurt out everything I've been through. If I weren't so scared, the look of fright on his face would have been comical.

He tries to get me to come with him to his house but I refuse. I'm not the type of person to run away from things. I'm the type that stays and fights. It's a stupid decision, I admit, but I'm not going to let a ghost get the better of me.

Before he leaves, he makes me promise I will call him if I ever need him. I give him my word, determined that should I need to, he will be the first one I'll call. Right after I run out of the house, of course.

Once I am home, I immediately dive into my work. I have to get my photographs done for the exhibit in the local gallery and think it is a perfect distraction from what I learned.

Unfortunately, it isn't that easy. Whenever I take a break, my mind drifts back to my past experiences and Edward's words. During these times, my breathing accelerates, my heart jack-hammers in my chest and the hair on my neck and arms stands up.

A small portion of these frightening times I am positive it is my own doing. The rest of it 'm not sure about.

When my fright is at an all time high, I find myself calling Edward, just to feel a little less alone. He succeeds in getting my mind off of my ghostly troubles and makes me laugh with his childhood stories. Every phone call makes me feel closer to him and takes my mind off of my haunted house. For a little bit.

At times, it is difficult to concentrate. When I'm not thinking of Edward, I am distracted by the sound of creaking wood and footsteps and the feel someone's eyes on me. I try to focus on my art, pushing myself to escape in my "zone," but it is difficult. Feeling creeped out is harder to shake off than one would think.

Finally, I complete the photos requested and hand deliver them to the gallery on the day they're due. As sad as it is, I'm actually glad to be out of the house. It feels like a weight is lifted off me and I can breathe without being observed every minute. I hate feeling this way; I fell in love with that house and now I look forward to being away from it.

As I drop the pictures off, I'm asked to wait, so I stick around, observing the other artworks. They're all very good and some even leave me in awe at the raw emotion that pours from the canvases. Hopefully, one day I'll have that kind of talent.

"Miss Swan?" a gentle voice inquires. Turning, I'm greeted with a caramel-haired woman who has the kindest face I've ever seen. "I'm Esme Cullen. It's such an honor to meet you."

I shake her hand firmly, wondering if she has any relation to Edward and Alice. "Cullen? As in Cullen Hardware? Are you related to Edward Cullen?"

"Guilty," she says, her eyes bright. "Edward is my son and Cullen Hardware is my husband's store; my children work there with him. I must admit, this meeting isn't a coincidence. When my children told me about you coming in, I had to jump at the chance of getting you in my gallery. I'm a huge fan of yours; the whole family is actually. I hope this wasn't inconvenient for you? Getting these photos done on such sort time?"

"Not at all, Mrs. Cullen. In Portland, I've had much less notice than a few days. I'm used to working under pressure."

"Oh, good. I was so afraid I had ruined my chances and made a horrible first impression, but I have a new showcase coming up tomorrow and I wanted to be sure to include you in it. From your style and technique, I knew you would be perfect for it, and I was right. It's an added bonus that you're a favorite artist of mine as well." She laughs. "I'm thrilled you accepted."

"Thank you for inviting me. I really appreciate it."

"No thanks are necessary. You have an amazing talent and I wanted you for my gallery before someone else could snatch you up."

"Well, I'm glad to be a part of your gallery and showcase. To be shown with this work," I say, waving to the photographs that had me so in awe. "It's remarkable. It's an honor, truly."

Esme gives me a gentle smile and waves a hand in front of her. "If you'll follow me, I'll show you where your works will be displayed."

I follow her to a freestanding wall near the entrance that will hold my pictures. In this location, my photos will have proper lighting and be something people see once they enter the main gallery. I'm floored that she's chosen such a high profile area for my artwork; usually places like this are reserved for more famous pieces. I voice my thoughts for the spot and turn my eyes to the door when it opens. Alice walks in and smiles hugely when she sees me standing with her mother.

"Hi, Bella. I see my mom wasted no time."

"Of course I didn't. Someone else would have snatched her up and I couldn't have that," Esme says to her daughter.

"You and Edward are more alike than you think," she teases. "Are you ready for lunch? If not, I can wait out in the car."

"No, I'm ready. Bella, would you like to join us?"

"Oh, I don't want to impose on your lunch, Mrs. Cullen."

"Call me Esme and it isn't an imposition. I would love for you to join us."

Alice nods vigorously in agreement, so I accept her invitation and follow the pair to the restaurant where they'll be eating. As I pull up in a spot next to them, I notice Edward standing outside, most likely waiting for them.

I'm proven right when he waves to both of them, smiling happily. When he sees me following them, he looks a little surprised, but his expression turns back to one of happiness.

"Hello." He reaches for my hand and I offer it willingly.

"Hi," I greet him with a smile.

"I invited Bella to lunch. You don't mind,do you?" Esme asks, looking at her son.

"Of course not. Jasper's inside holding down the table. Shall we go in?"

Edward holds the door open for all of us, leading us to the table they snagged ten minutes earlier. A man with shaggy honey-colored hair rises from the table, kissing Alice softly on the lips and then giving a kiss on the cheek to Esme.

When Jasper and I are introduced, he too tells me he's a fan of my work and would love to interview me for a piece for the paper where he works. I agree, and he thanks me with a dip of his head.

During lunch, Esme tells me about her family. She speaks with love about her husband, who has recently retired from being a doctor so he could open up his own store, and she tells me of her other son, Emmett, whom I already met because he was my exterminator. She also tells me of Emmett's wife, Rosalie, who is expecting their first child in December.

I, in turn, tell them about my life and how I got to where I am now. I notice Jasper pulls out a notebook and starts writing things down. He says these are answers to the questions he knows he'll ask, so he wants to write them down so I won't have to repeat them later.

I continue on, telling them about why I moved here, and Esme questions if I've found the perfect place for myself. When I answer affirmatively, I receive the same worried and fearful look from her I got from her children.

"I told her the story," Edward admits.

"Has anything strange happened since you've been there?" Alice asks.

Nodding, I tell them what I've been through and they're silent, lost in their thoughts. All except Jasper, who taps his pen against his chin.

"Have you tried getting in contact with the spirit?"

I look at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Many people believe that ghosts can be contacted through video or voice recording. Obviously, this ghost is trying to contact you. You should try setting up video and voice recorders to see if you catch anything. If you do, maybe you can see what this spirit wants and release it."

"Do you think that'll work?"

Jasper shrugs. "I don't know, to be honest. But it's worth a try."

8*8*8*8

Jasper's words echo in my head all throughout the ride home. As I pull into my driveway, I stare at my house. I still love it; I love the style and the room I have in it, but it's being overshadowed by the possibility of a ghost.

Taking slow steps, I walk up the pathway and go inside timidly, my eyes searching for anything that doesn't belong. When I see nothing, I lock the door behind me and go straight to my computer, searching for anything that will verify what Edward has told me. Maybe if I can find more details, I'll know how to better help this spirit move on.

Three frustrating hours later, I find nothing about a murder or missing person's report that happened in this area—not even a tiny blurb. I even search the Port Angeles and Seattle newspapers. Thinking back to Edward's tale, I have the feeling that it never made it out of Forks. I guess my feeling was correct.

Sighing heavily, I can't help but feel disappointment. I had hoped _something _would come up, even a small local legend, but nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Either it was very well covered up, or it simply didn't happen.

But I can't really think that way, can I? There's only so much I can chalk up to imagination,and this isn't one of those things. There's only one option left for me now.

"_Hello?" _Edward picks after the fourth ring, sounding cheery, but alert.

"Hey, it's me."

_"Bella? Is everything okay?"_

"Yeah. Listen, do you or Jasper have access to video and voice recording?"

_"I don't, but Jasper does for sure. He's done ghost hunts before for his paper and a few on his own for fun. Why? Do you want to do an amateur ghost hunt?"_

"I was thinking about it. I don't want to live in my home in fear anymore. Do you think Jasper would let me borrow some equipment? Or maybe even help me conduct it?"

_"I'm sure he won't mind. In fact, I know he won't. He loves this supernatural crap."_

"Great." I sigh with relief. "Can you ask him, just to be sure?"

_"Of course. Let me call him and I'll get back to you. And Bella, don't worry. Everything is going to be okay."_

8*8*8*8

Twenty minutes later, Edward calls me back, confirming his earlier words. Jasper does, in fact, have access to the equipment needed to catch a ghost on film. He tells me that they'll be bringing everything over later this evening and to not worry about anything.

That's easier said than done.

Every little sound makes me jump, and I'm constantly looking over my shoulder for a glowing figure, waiting to kill me. By the time the sun starts to lower in the sky, I'm a nervous wreck … and the scratching I hear isn't helping much. It's grated on my nerves so much that I opt to stand outside and wait for them arrive. Never mind it's cold and I'm shivering within ten minutes; there's no way I'm going back in the house alone.

A four-door SUV pulls into my driveway with Jasper in the driver's seat. I see his lips moving and before I can comprehend what's happening, Edward is out of the car, taking long strides to me.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I say, shivering. Edward sees this and takes off his jacket, placing it around my shoulders and rubbing my arms with his warm hands. I lean into him, soaking up his comforting presence and body heat. "I couldn't stay there any longer. I kept expecting some killer ghost to come through the wall, and I _really _can't stand that scratching sound."

"I'm sorry." Edward places his lips against my forehead. "I shouldn't have told you that story."

"No, it's fine. I'm glad I know." _Sort of. _

Edward, not buying my words, looks at me skeptically and shakes his head, regret clear in his eyes. Obviously, there's no convincing him otherwise, so I wrap an arm around his waist and squeeze.

"Everything okay?"

I look toward Jasper, who looks at me worriedly. I try to give him a smile, but it comes out more like a grimace. Behind him Alice stands, also looking worried.

"I hope you don't mind that I came along," she says, her voice timid. "I didn't want Jasper here alone ..."

I wave off her apology, knowing that I would be in the same position if it were someone I care about. Hell, I haven't known Edward that long, but I know a part of me would want to be with him if he were doing something like this.

She smiles in relief and goes to the SUV, lugging out a huge plastic box. I'm surprised she can handle such an item, but apparently she has surprising strength.

Jasper stares at me for a moment longer before giving a comforting smile. "Everything will be fine, Bella. We'll get to the bottom of this. Once we collect the evidence of what this ghost wants then I'm going to make a call," he tells me, waving his cell phone around. "And call someone to come out and get this ghost to move on."

"Thank you, Jasper."

He dips his head in acknowledgment and goes to help Alice retrieve more equipment from the car. Once everything is unloaded, Jasper unpacks it, setting up various monitors on the dining room table. I offer to help them place the cameras up, but I have no experience at handling such sensitive equipment, so I stand out of the way. Alice, Jasper and Edward place various cameras around the house in places Jasper calls "hotspots."

Most of this I recall from watching reality ghost shows on television. I never thought I'd be participating in it, though.

Everything is set up and the others come into the room, Edward standing by me and grasping my hand within his. I squeeze him and turn toward Jasper when he speaks.

"I believe we'll get better results if we split up in teams."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Alice says, scrunching her face in disapproval. "Bad things _always _happen when groups split up."

Jasper curls his arm around her shoulder, pulling her against his side. "Everything will be fine. We're all going to be in the house within shouting distance, although I do recommend you be as quite as possible when doing voice recordings, okay?" At the last statement he looks at all of us, waiting for our nods before speaking to Alice again. "I promise, nothing bad will happen."

Alice reluctantly agrees and asks what the next step is.

"The next step," Jasper says, "is to go get our evidence. Edward, Bella, the both of you take the upper level, Alice and I will be down here, watching the monitors."

"Why us first? You have more experience with this, Jasper," Edward points out.

"I do, but I think we'll get a better reaction from the ghost if Bella goes first. Since this is her home, the ghost will be more reactive to her."

Nervousness washes over me. I had a feeling that was the reason he wanted Edward and I to go investigate first, but to hear it straight from his mouth creates a feeling of dread that sits in my stomach like a lead brick.

Oblivious to my turmoil, Jasper continues. "Make sure your recorders are on and if you feel threatened at any time, calmly come downstairs and we'll assess from there, understood?"

Edward and I both murmur our agreements and take the small hand held recorders from Jasper as he hands them to us.

With each step leading up the stairs, my heart hammers in my chest. To me, it seems like it's beating so hard that everyone can hear it.

The _thump, thump, thump _in my chest echoes in my ears and my hands shake, causing me to drop the recorder. My hands fumble as I try to pick up the device before getting a firm grasp on it.

Edward takes my free hand and squeezes softly, pulling me into my studio. His eyes scan the area, and he smiles when he sees my latest work in progress.

"What's the inspiration behind this one? Or am I not supposed to look at it yet?"

Usually, I would tell him—or anyone that wasn't me—to look away. I never want anyone looking at my unfinished pieces; I much prefer them to be completed when eyes are first set upon them, but this time, I'll make an exception. I know he's trying to distract me from what we're doing.

I stand next to the board where a handful of photographs are spread about. I had taken these photos when I first bought the house; some of them are structural shots, showcasing the outside structure while the others are shots of the sky and the weeds and flowers that surrounded the property. The last picture is of what the house looks like now that the weeds are gone and the outside is cleaned up.

I had planned to incorporate all of these images into one image showing the old and the new both on separate sides of the photo but also bleeding together, so it looks like one image.

As I explain all of this, I feel my frightened feelings slowly dissipate and are replaced by excitement and love for my craft. Edward watches me speak with rapt attention and smiles throughout my explanation.

"Your passion is a wonderful thing to experience."

My eyes drift down to the floor, looking at my feet, but as soon as I do, Edward's finger lifts my chin.

"Never be embarrassed about your passion. It's part of who you are,and you should _never _be embarrassed about that."

"Thank you," I reply softly.

He gives me a crooked smile and leans forward, kissing my forehead. "I do hope I'll be around long enough to see you like that again."

His words can be taken more than one way and I find myself blushing, even though I know I have nothing to be embarrassed about. Still, my cheeks flame and he chuckles, kissing my forehead again, trailing his lips across my skin and over to my ear.

"And yes, I did mean that in more than one way," he whispers.

A giggle escapes me and I lay my head on his chest. He wraps his arms around me, holding me there.

_BANG!_

We both jump at the sound, our heads swiveling toward my bedroom, where the sound came from. Carefully and slowly, we walk out into the hallway, neither of us not even daring to breathe louder than a whisper.

We stand in the doorway, seeing nothing out of place, but we both know the sound came from this room. Edward takes my hand and takes the recorder from me, directing me slightly behind him and stepping into the room, keeping me close to him but out of the way.

"Hello?" He speaks lowly, but clear. He lifts the recorder in the air and waits for a beat before speaking again. "Who are you?" Another beat. "What do you want with Bella?"

Another bang comes from the closet and Edward turns to me, his face serious. "Stay right here," he tells me in a demanding whisper.

Not wanting to argue, I nod vigorously, my voice seemingly lost. Edward breaks his hold on my hand and I clutch the door frame, watching as he walks over to the closet, opening the door and taking a peek inside.

With the door open, that dreadful scratching sound can be heard clearer and he steps into the doorway of the closet, his head tilted to the side as he listens carefully.

"I hear something."

"Scratching?"

He shakes his head, his face a mask of confusion. "Not quite. It almost sounds like … movement."

As the last word leaves his lips, a pale hand shoots out, grabbing Edward by the throat and pulling him in. His head hits the wall hard, the muted thud making me wince and scream as his body disappears.

Thundering footsteps fill the house as Jasper and Alice sprint up the stairs, rushing toward me with wide eyes.

"Something _took _him," I force out, pointing to the closet.

Jasper rushes over to the closet, picking up Edward's discarded recorder and looking for Edward, who has completely disappeared. Jasper starts banging on the walls as Alice holds onto me, trying to calm me down.

"We heard a noise and he went to investigate. He said he heard movement and then something shot out and took him," I cry.

"It's fine, Bella," Alice says softly, even though her voice is not reassuring. She, too, sounds frightened for her brother.

Jasper comes out of the closet. "I'm going to have to tear down your closet wall. I think that's where he is. There's a slight trail of blood disappearing under there."

Alice and I both cry out. "Do you think he's alive?" I ask, fearful for the answer.

"I don't know, but we have to get to him. Where are your tools?"

"Downstairs, in the laundry room."

Jasper nods. "I'll be right back; don't move."

We follow his instruction, staying in the doorway, our hands clasped as Jasper runs down the steps. A second later, we hear a crash, followed by Jasper's voice.

"Shit!"

"Jasper!" Alice gasps. She looks at me, clearly at a loss on what to do.

"Go," I urge.

Without needing to be told twice, she tears down the steps, going to aide her husband. I remain in the doorway, not wanting to move.

A noise behind me makes me spin around. A thump comes from the attic door, and despite my heart jumping in my throat, I rush over to it, thinking—and hoping—that perhaps it's Edward behind the piece of wood. I know it's impossible that it's him, but right now, I'm hoping for anything.

"Edward? Is that you?"

I place my ear against the door, listening carefully. The only sound I hear is shuffling and muttering coming from within.

"Edward? Please, answer me!"

A louder, more pronounced thump meets my ears and I jump away from the door, startled. The thumping continues, and I run back into my bedroom, grabbing the flashlight in my bedside drawer. I slide back into the hall, falling onto the floor, hoping to see something.

Drawing in a shaky breath, I place my cheek against the cool hardwood and fumble with the flashlight, trying to find the button to turn it on with nervous fingers.

My index finger feels the soft button, and taking a deep breath, I click it on, illuminating the space underneath the door.

Immediately, I wish I hadn't.

Instead of green eyes, I see a pale blue eye. I release a scream and shuffle backward on my hands, knocking the flashlight away from me. The light spins across the floor, showing the eye each time the beam of hits it.

I scramble backward, trying to get away, and as I do, my foot kicks the flashlight away from the eye staring at me. Now, I can't tell whether the person or thing is staring at me still. It doesn't matter though; all that matters is getting away from that door.

My intent is to go downstairs; hell, I'll crawl if I have to, but suddenly I'm stopped by running into something solid. A short sigh of relief escapes me, thinking it's Jasper, but one look up tells me I'm dead wrong.

The person standing over me has wild blond hair, a full face of facial hair, where I can't make out anything except his eyes. His body is slightly gaunt, wearing tattered rags for clothes and it has wild eyes that make me fear for my life. What's the most terrifying isn't the fact that some entity is standing over me, looking murderous … it isn't the fact that this _thing _reaches down and backhands me as I scream; it's the fact that this_ thing_ isn't a ghost as I thought.

It's a flesh and blood person.

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><p><strong>AN: I hope you enjoyed! **

**One more chapter to go! ;) **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Many thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed!**

**Thanks to Ella and kitchmill, for helping me with this story and being generally awesome. :)**

**Any mistakes you see are my own.**

**Warning: There is a scene of violence in this chapter. **

**SM owns everything Twilight.**

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><p>4-<p>

"You're not supposed to be here!" he screams, his voice cracking, but no less dangerous sounding. "This is _my _house! _Mine! _I will kill you." He starts to laugh maniacally, the sound chilling and inhuman.

A scream leaves my lips just before the man reaches down, grabbing my throat and picking me up off of the floor. I struggle to breathe and claw at the hands holding me. My defense angers him and he slams me against the wall, my skull knocking against the plaster. For a moment, my vision blackens but I regain my senses and start kicking anywhere I can reach. Once, I actually get a good kick in and hit him right where it hurts the most.

_Right where my mother would call "his special place". _

This time, I start clawing at his face, my blunt nails doing little damage. With his free hand, the attacker grabs my arm and twists, bringing up to his mouth and taking a huge chunk of skin from my forearm. Even with the tight grip he has on my throat, I manage to cry out in pain and yank my arm away.

My hands return to his face, scratching at his eyes. I feel my fingers make contact, and even though I'm thoroughly disgusted, I keep pressing forward, hoping to get him to release his hold on me.

The man howls in pain and slams me against the wall again, dislodging my fingers from his eyes. I grunt as the outer edge of my vision blackens. I can feel the fight leaving me and a sense of dread and hopelessness fill me. There's no way I can fight him. He's too strong and I'm too weak, especially with a lack of oxygen and my head pounding in sync with my racing heart.

Before I can lose consciousness, I notice something rise above my attacker's head. It's long and shiny and just before it comes down on his head, I realize it's a wrench.

Blood instantly covers his face and the wild man releases his grip on my throat. I fall heavily onto the floor, coughing and gasping while trying to replenish my lungs with much needed oxygen. Alice slides up next to me and tries to pull me out of the way of Jasper and the "ghost" fighting, her eyes glassy and fearful.

Alice manages to pull me into the doorway of my studio and we watch helplessly as Jasper throws punches left and right, dodging the attacker easily. However, he's not so lucky all of the time. The attacker grabs Jasper's hand as he moves to punch him once more and bends his arm back, where a loud crack can be heard. Jasper falls to his knees and the attacker delivers a punch to his face, the force of it snapping his head back so far I'm surprised it didn't come off.

"Jasper!" Alice screeches.

Alice's voice causes the man to turn his attention to us, and he charges forward, growling, his hands formed into claws. Alice gasps and I move my arm in front of her, wanting to shield her from this crazy person. In the background, I can hear the sound of someone shouting and banging from somewhere in the house, but I'm too focused on the man coming our way to determine who's making such noise.

Fortunately, he never approaches us. Jasper gathers his bearings and picks up the wrench, repeatedly hitting the man on the back of the head, never letting up on his assault. The wild man falls onto his knees, blood and chunks of flesh covering his skin and hair. He makes an indistinguishable sound of pain and falls face first onto the floor.

Our heavy breathing and the pounding on the wall coming from somewhere in the house are the only sounds that can be heard.

"Is he dead?" Alice asks. Her voice is barely loud enough to hear, but we all do.

Jasper creeps forward slowly, reaching for the man's pulse point and resting his fingers there for a moment.

"It's faint, but it's there."

"How are you?"

"I'm fine," he says gruffly. I notice his arm is bent at a weird angle and I immediately know it's broken. "I think he may have broken my nose and arm, though."

Alice gasps, but Jasper doesn't let her say more. "Come on, we need to find Edward and call the police before he wakes up again."

"Where is Edward? How can we find him?" Alice questions, pulling me up and keeping me by her side as she moves toward Jasper.

"He's in the walls, I think. Can't you hear him yelling and banging?"

Alice pauses, listening. When she hears the noise, her eyes light up. "Thank goodness he's safe! Let's get him out!"

She dashes into the bedroom, picking up a hammer and going into the closet.

"Edward, can you hear me?"

"Yes!" His voice his muffled, but he can be heard. "Get me out of here!"

"Step back! I'm going to tear down the wall."

Alice poises her hammer in the air and starts to swing it down, but Jasper catches her wrist.

"Why don't I do this, huh?"

"Your arm is broken."

"I can probably still do it better than you. Please, let me. I don't want you to hit him."

She relents, stepping back, and Jasper feels along the wall, banging it with his good fist a couple of times. At one point on the wall, the result of hitting the wall is hollow. He looks satisfied by this and instructs Edward to stand back for a moment. When Edward gives him the all clear, Jasper swings the hammer at the section of hollow wall and instantly, a panel falls to the ground.

To my relief, Edward pops out a second later, collapsing into Jasper. Jasper cries out and Edward apologizes at once, noticing his broken arm. Jasper waves him off, breathing heavily through his mouth. As Edward steps further into the room, I see a blooming bruise on his temple along with a trail of blood down his cheek.

Edward's eyes meet mine as soon as he's out and he dashes toward me, grabbing my shoulders, his eyes darting all over my face and body. His eyes linger on my throat, no doubt seeing the bruises, and travel down to my bloody arm, where he hisses with sympathy.

"Are you okay?"

"I should be asking _you _that. How are you?" he questions.

"I'm okay. My head and arm hurts."

"Come on," Jasper says from behind us. "We need to call the police and get checked out."

8*8*8*8

Shortly after our phone call, the police are swarming my house, their red and blue lights lightening up the street. A few neighbors have come out of their houses, watching the scene unfolding. When our attacker is wheeled out there are more than a few audible gasps and chatter filling the air.

Edward has been released by an ambulance worker, saying he only has a bump on the head, but should go to the hospital, just in case. For Jasper, his arm and nose are definitely broken and he is escorted to hospital with Alice for the bones to be reset. A medic advises me to go to the hospital myself, to get my head checked and my arm stitched up, but I don't want to leave yet. I have to hear what the police say. I have to see what they find. Edward stands by me, his arm around my waist as we wait for someone to come talk to me.

The police traipse in and out of my house, talking among themselves and taking notes. A few of them shake their heads as they come out with bagged evidence. Each new item I see in their hands makes my stomach roll, and I swallow back the nausea that threatens to erupt.

"Miss Swan?" An officer comes up to me, looking at me with sympathy. "I would like go over a few things with you, if I may."

"Sure."

"When did you notice something was strange about your house?"

For ten minutes I answer his questions and he writes everything down, nodding and asking additional questions.

"Thank you," he says when he's done, putting his notepad in his jacket pocket.

"How long has he been there?" I ask, even though I already know the answer.

"You sure you want to hear this?"

_No. _"Yes."

"We were able to make a positive identification of the man living in your house. He is James Monroe, the former owner. It seems Monroe had been living in the attic since the murders of his wife and child. From what we can see so far, he'd been using the space between the walls to move about. We believe he isn't of sound mind, due to what we've found; when we searched through the attic, we found a few of his possessions and discarded food sources in the attic area, as well pages upon pages of ramblings.

"From what it looks like, after he killed his family, he locked himself in the attic, hiding from the police; we believe he hid in the walls to escape. Many police officers searched for him, but after a month, we figured he either killed himself and wild animals took his carcass away or he fled the country. After the investigation, the house was sold back to the bank and someone came in to repaint and clean, effectively trapping him in the attic. However, he obviously had another mode of getting in and out."

My nausea comes back with a vengeance and my mouth waters. I can't believe someone was living in my house without my knowledge. I turn away from Edward, trying desperately not to throw up. I'm unsuccessful and heave, tears burning my eyes.

Edward keeps one hand on me, rubbing my back and whispering words of comfort in my ear. They do little to help, however. My mind goes back to everything I experienced when living in that house—the many times I felt someone's eyes on me, the feeling of someone touching my hair, the movement of my possessions and the scratching in the walls. How could I have not known someone was living in my house?

Once the sickness passes, I look back at the officer, who gives me a sad smile.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. I would be doing the same thing."

"What will happen to him?"

"He's under arrest, but he'll be taken to the hospital and monitored twenty-four seven. He's not going to get away."

I nod and Edward thanks him, folding me in his arms. "Let's get you out of here."

"Where will I go?" My voice breaks, but I don't care.

"You'll go with me," Edward tells me resolutely. "Come on."

Edward starts to lead me away, but my legs shake and my knees buckle. Edward catches me before I fall, sweeping me into his arms and carrying me away from my home … my dream home that's no longer picturesque and perfect to me. Now, it's a place of nightmares that will haunt me for quite some time.

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><p><strong>AN: That concludes this short Halloween tale ... I hope you enjoyed it!**

**If you would like to read more Halloween stories, please check out the "Countdown to Halloween: A mythical moment in time." There are some amazing authors over there.**

**AND ... I may have another Halloween surprise for you very soon. ;) **

**Happy Halloween! **


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